I woke up feeling alright. No worries, really. I understand I had nothing to complain about.
Something felt off, though. I felt compromised somehow, but well-rested despite that. I think that's just the fragility effect that takes in after having nightmares throughout the night. You're just left with the shock of your fears, knowing you'll have to process it all while walking around amongst the ranks of the unaware, totally vulnerable, and to put it generously, hopelessly and utterly unprotected without the mercy of the night.
Oh, but it does get worse from here, since you're awake for the processing. This means you will have to do your very best to keep yourself composed while simultaneously and hapharzardly trying comforting yourself in hopes you will survive reliving the abstract and fragmented horror of your wildly misunderstood, slumbering mind, which in its own respect, is fully capable of sparking its own unique sensation of terror, which, not even the strongest of men are guaranteed to venture through unscathed.
Suddenly, your day becomes trying to come out of the other side of this one creepy - or even sadder, sadistic culmination - of rude inventions of these particular vengeful, sick and twisted, unconsentual reveries.
When you think of it in this light, the real nightmare is actually the one you know you're getting yourself into from the moment you wake up.
There's more. The most dangerously crafted contrast in store for you, though, is not the visions you'd saw in your sleep during the night... when you know the monster in this nightmare is not a melting, putrid creation felt it was birthed from Hell itself, per se, but rather the thing I am trying to make sense of now in the mirror, right, now.
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